Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (8 page)

“Level seven?” Tom asked.

“Well, yeah,” Jake admitted. “But I’ve got this case, only I’m not sure if I’ve got a perp, or even a victim.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Tom said, dodging his head to the left as if he could avoid the zombies’ attack that way. “I can’t help you.”

“Maybe after the game we could talk about it?”

“No, dawg,” Tom said. “You’ve got to figure out what game you are playing first.”

Jake took a hit to the leg. His life meter plummeted to a quarter full. “What do you mean?”

“It’s like, we can’t talk specific strategies until you know what your game perimeters are. House of the Dead, you need to come out shooting. Mortal Kombat is all about combo moves. Call to Arms is all about stealth. Long-term goals.” The kid ducked and dived, bobbing up and down. “No point in talking about lateral flanking maneuvers if you’re playing Gyro the Dragon. Know what I mean?”

Even though Jake took a hit right to the chest and died a painful death on screen, he didn’t care. “Yes!” the light bulb went off. “Absolutely.”

He shoved a bunch of quarters into the slot next to Tom.

“Thanks, Tom. Play some on me.”

Jake turned to leave as Tom called out, “I’m here until Mom calls me for dinner!”

* * *

“Come on, come on, come on,” Darion murmured, but their trapdoor had yet to open. A loud twang filled the air and the trap door above Clyde opened up. A large, antique looking rifle with a bayonet fell to the floor.

“That’s more like it!” Clyde exclaimed as he dragged himself across the floor and snatched up the weapon.

Evie looked to Darion. Even he looked worried.

Next came Andrew’s weapon. A small pocket knife. “No way!” he yelled. “What the heck is this?”

Esau got a slingshot. He stopped his scripture just long enough to say, “If David did not complain, then neither shall I.”

Door got a short bow and a quiver with four arrows.

“Way to go, Katniss,” Andrew said, chuckling, then looked to Evie. “That was the right pop culture reference, right?”

Evie nodded.

“Whew, it had just blown up when I got captured,” Andrew explained.

Darion was still staring up. So far, no weapon at all.

Papa got a pair of hedge clippers, and Back couldn’t be happier with his sickle. He kept slicing it through the air. Yet none for them, yet.

“No, no, no, no,” Darion lamented, looking up at the unmoving trap door.

If he didn’t get a weapon, no matter how many cloth strips she had, they wouldn’t make it. Not against the arsenal out there.

* * *

Jake watched as Brad turned the collar of his jacket up against the growing wind as he trotted down the steps toward him.

He opened his mouth, but his friend held out a hand. “Save it, man. Your lieutenant already warned us you were on one of your benders.”

Luckily, Jake had a secret weapon. He pulled out a picture of Evelyn holding an eight-week-old chocolate Labrador retriever. The cuteness oozed off the photo paper.

“You ready to see morgue pictures of her starved and dehydrated?” Jake challenged Brad.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Brad answered. “I tracked down the fiancée—well, ex-fiancée. Looks like he knocked your girl up, then split. She lost the baby a few weeks later. I can try to track him down, but—”

“No,” Jake said. The guy seemed to be in Evelyn’s rearview mirror. “That won’t be necessary. I
know
who took her.” Brad’s eyebrow went up.
Starvin’ Marvin
.

Brad patted Jake’s shoulder. “Dude, you really need to go back on Paxil.”

Jake was ready for this, however. He counted off on his fingers all his points.

“Look, we haven’t identified these deaths as due to a serial killer because we were going at him like a regular criminal. We’ve got to think outside the box. Or under the radar.”

“Clichés aside, how exactly do we do that?”

“He may know forensics. He may know police procedure, but avoiding us at every turn forces him down a path that is predictable.”

He handed a thick set of folders to Brad. “At each crime scene—”

“You use that term awfully loosely,” Brad commented.

“Each site has van tire tracks.”

Brad sighed. “We’ve already been over this before this chick went missing. Each of those tire tracks from your previous “victims” was a different van.”

Jake held up a finger. “Which, to an untrained mind, could imply that there was no link between them.”

Brad noticed a few cops coming down the steps and moved them off to the side. “Or, to the ‘trained’ mind?”

“He just used five different vans.”

“That’s a helluva lot of vans for any one person. All of the abandoned vans during that period were registered to different people”

“Ah,” Jake said. “But we didn’t look into their
insurance
companies.”

Brad flipped through the files. “But these vans all had different insurance companies.”

His friend was acting like that was a bad thing. “That’s because Marvin doesn’t want questions about his ever-revolving van collection.”

Suddenly Brad’s eyes opened, his pupils dilating. “Which means he couldn’t prove previous insurance.”

Jake nodded. “Now you’re on the path, grasshopper.”

“So any agent worth his salt is going to want to see the new van that they are being asked to insure… His options are getting limited.” Brad clapped his gloved hands together. “So we pull footage from the last insurance office and compare it to the other insurance offices, and once we get a picture…”

“We get a name. Then we get financial, phone records,” Jake added. “Then find real estate acquisitions isolated enough to hold a hostage for a week.”

Brad looked at Jake sideways, then sighed. “You are… an evil, evil genius when you’re not slacking.”

“Thanks,” Jake said, grateful his pitch had worked. He turned to walk off.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Brad said, grabbing Jake by the sleeve. “Where do you think you’re going? This is a hell of a lot of groundwork to go over.”

“Do you really think that Starvin’ Marvin just drives along and says, ‘Hey, she’s cute. I think that I’ll take her?’” Brad shook his head. “I’m going to trace Ms. Montgomery’s movements so that I can give you specific traffic corners to check the license numbers you uncover, then trace
his
movements back to his lair.”

Brad clapped him on the back. “Damn you and your evil genius.”

CHAPTER 9

Evie stared up at the trap door. It was still solidly closed. The other men were busy practicing with their own weapons. Back looked a little too skilled with that sickle for Evie’s taste. And the sharp clack of Papa’s hedge trimmers filled the dungeon.

“Come on,” Darion urged the trap door, but it didn’t seem to be listening.

“Guess your fucking luck isn’t holding, Darion,” Back sneered.

“Yeah! Take this!” Door said as he shot an arrow into their cell. It missed wildly, then skidded into Andrew’s cell.

“Hey!” Andrew shouted.

“Not yet!” Back yelled at Door. “You idiot!”

Evie looked to Darion. “Why haven’t you gotten a weapon?”

He seemed too busy trying to make the trap door open with his mind that he didn’t answer. As always, Andrew was more than willing to step into the void.

“Once in a blue moon, one of us doesn’t get a weapon.”

“Not right away,” Darion snapped. He looked to Evie. “One
will
drop.”

“Before or after you’re sliced up into tiny ribbons is yet to be determined,” Back challenged. Evie hugged herself. Could it be true? Was Darion going to lose today?

“Random Cell Opening will commence on the count of three.”’

Well, if he didn’t get a weapon in the next few seconds it looked like it was going to be all over. Back certainly seemed to think so.

“Maybe I’ll let you live long enough to cut the flesh off your body.”

“Three.”

“Inch by square inch,” Back said as he sharpened his sickle.

“
Two
.”

“You know, your pubes would make a nice trophy.”

“
One
.”

Evie had to keep herself from hyperventilating. She grabbed Darion by the arm. “Keep him away from me and I’ll make sure you get back in.”

“Then I’ll tie you to the bed, belly down, so that I can take you whenever the fuck I want.”

Darion looked to her. “Maybe you’ll be…’grateful?’” Evie frowned. “Maybe just a little?”

“
Kill
him, then we’ll talk.”

“Bingo.”

Evie held her breath waiting to see whose door was the first open. It turned out to be Clyde’s. Sweaty and weak, the hick propped himself up on his cot, aiming at the doorway.

“Anybody, and I mean
anybody
, who dares come in here, dies.”

“Found something to replace your cock there, Clyde?” Door teased.

The big man charged the door. “Shut the fuck up.”

Door pulled back on the bowstring. “One shot, man.”

“Don’t!” Back ordered.

Door swung around, aiming straight at Back. “Or maybe I’ll just prove that
I’m
the Back Door Rapist, after all.”

Back pointed to Evie. “And how does that get you any closer to drilling that?”

Evie tasted metal. Iron, to be exact. She must have bit her lip and not even realized it.

Then Papa’s door popped open. Clyde re-aimed at the older man.

Papa put his hands up. “Son, I have no quarrel with you.”

Instead, he sat down and glared at Darion. Those two had some serious bad blood between them. However, it was Door’s cell that opened next. The man rushed out of his cell and set up at the far end of the room. Evie looked up. Still no weapon. They were so screwed. No, actually, she was going to get screwed, in the worst possible way.

“Listen to me, you morons. If we gang up, he’s got no fucking chance. He’s defenseless.”

Esau’s door swung open. Very slowly, reciting scripture, the man made it out of his cell, his slingshot dangling from his belt.

“I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”

Back wasn’t giving up, though. “Esau, you know that I’m right.”

Evie held her breath as Esau walked up to their cell and glared in. Darion stepped in between them.

“Do your worst,” Darion challenged.

Evie didn’t think that they were exactly in a place to taunt anyone, but she was glad he was standing between her and Esau as he drew his slingshot. The old wiry guy looked like he knew his way around the archaic weapon. He loaded a large pebble into the sling, but instead of shooting it at Darion, Esau swiveled at the last second and flung it at Clyde.

The rock hit the hick square on the forehead. Clyde pulled the trigger, wasting his only bullet into the ceiling. Evie barely blinked and Esau was on Clyde, grabbing the rifle out of his hand, then turning it around, burying the bayonet into the hick’s belly.

Clyde didn’t scream so much as gasp. Esau pulled the blade out and shoved Clyde down onto the floor.

“No,” Clyde begged. “Please no.
No
.”

Too bad, Clyde, Evie thought. Begging’s not so much fun when you are on the other side of it, is it?

Then Esau dropped to his knees and used the knife to slice open Clyde’s belly. Evie turned away, her stomach in revolt. But she also couldn’t keep herself from glancing over her shoulder.

Clyde reached out toward Papa. “Papa, Papa, please help me.”

Esau expertly fished around Clyde’s belly, then pulled out the spleen. Using the bayonet blade, he cut off a thin slice of the organ, then took a bite.

Evie’s stomach threated to revolt.

“Most make the mistake of starting with the bowel. However, consuming the spleen will leave you alive the longest.”

There was no doubt that Evie hated Clyde. Hated what he’d done to her. Hated what he’d wanted to do to her. But no one deserved to be eaten alive.

Esau smacked his lips. “Delicious.”

“Sweet Jesus!” Back yelled. “You can eat him later!”

Esau shook his head as he took another bite. “The flesh is the most flavorful when the heart is still beating.”

Clyde moaned so deeply that Evie felt it in her stomach.

“Fucking kill Darion first!” Back yelled.

Esau rose from his knees to stand.

“Finally!”

But it wasn’t to come after Darion. Instead, Esau squeezed some blood from the spleen, then used it to scrawl scripture on the wall.

“No!” Back yelled, but that didn’t stop Esau one bit.

* * *

Jake juggled three bags of groceries as he tried to get the key into Evie’s lock. Finally, the key slipped in and Jake was able to open the door before all the apples he bought tumbled out into the hallway.

As he entered the apartment he announced, “Honey, I’m home.”

He chuckled to himself as he passed by the hamster. “And imagine, Herbie, everyone is amazed that I’m still single.”

After putting the groceries away in the kitchen and cutting Herbie a few slices of apple, Jake actually got down to work. He pushed the power button on Evie’s computer and sorted through her bills as it booted up. Besides making some crab soufflé tonight with caramelized cinnamon apples, he needed to get Evie’s routine down.

The bills were in perfect order by due date, and her checkbook was immaculate. She was up to date to the penny. “Well, if I save you, maybe you can balance
my
checkbook.”

Behind the computer screen, Jake found a digital camera. He flipped through her most current pictures. Herbie, Herbie, and more Herbie the hamster.

“Okay, your life is about as exciting as mine.” That Nancy had been right. Evie really didn’t get out much.

Finally, the computer booted up. The first thing that Jake noticed was a file on her desktop labeled, “Internet Dating Profile. Version 8.”

Jake opened the file and read it aloud.

“Down-to-earth, financially stable girl seeks down-to–earth, financially stable guy.”

The “financially stable guy” was highlighted and in a bright red font. Guess the girl had dated enough slacker/writer/actor types. Although he didn’t think that she was necessarily highlighting those words—it looked like it was a track changes bolding.